


Mexico

by jay_1618



Series: Gallavich||One Shots [9]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bitch Fiona, Fiona Threatens Ian, Jealous Prison Bitch, Letter, M/M, Mexico, Michoacán, Mickey had a bitch, Phone Call, Sad Ian, Sad Mickey, mail, post season seven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:38:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jay_1618/pseuds/jay_1618
Summary: One Shot Series Prompt: Ian goes to Mexico to see Mickey who has gotten himself in prison.





	Mexico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part One of One Shot Prompt: Ian calls Mickey to plan to see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for Part One of One Shot: Dear Darlin by Olly Murs
> 
> https://youtu.be/6izOAYpxeAo

_Chicago IL, USA_  
_June 8th, 2017_

A mailman walked up the steps of the Gallagher household with a coupon book, few bills, and a letter from Mexico in hand and knocked on the door.   
Fiona answered it, "Hey! Thanks!" She took the mail and closed the door, flipping through it. "Coupons, electric bill, water bill, gas bill...." She bit her lip when she saw the one that had a Mexican stamp on it. The name of who it was from made her confused, "Aleksandr Horae?" She looked to see who it was for;  _"Ian Gallagher"_ was printed in a slightly messy handwriting.   
"Ian! Mail!"  
Ian was laying in his bed, his thoughts of Mickey being interrupted by Fiona's screeching voice that was beckoning him from downstairs.   
"Coming!" He pulled on a shirt to go downstairs even though he didn't know why and who would send him mail. "Who's it from?" He asked as he got to the kitchen, seeing Fiona at the bottom of the stairs.   
"An Aleksandr Horae?" She says as she handed Ian the letter, "Anyone special I should know about?"  
Ian cleared his throat, "Nah nah, thanks for the letter." He tossed the envelope onto the counter and went to the refrigerator. Fiona leaned against the counter, staring expectantly at him as he grabbed a carton of orange juice. He shook it to, not so surprisingly, find it empty, and threw it into the trash. He turned around to see Fiona finally.   
"What?"  
"Well... Aren't ya gonna open it..?"  
Ian eyed the letter from the counter.

 _Michoacán, Mexico_  
_May 10th, 2017_

Mickey set the crappy excuse of a pencil down on his shitty work desk he worked at for his stupid prison job. He read over the letter he had just written,

_"Dear Ian,_

_I know I'm not one to be formal and shit but hey, why not write you this letter to let you know your bitch got into the Mexican prison? It's the same as Chicago in a way... It's hard to explain. Anyways, this is Mickey in case you were wondering. Aleksandr is the name I use for legal shit. How I got back in the joint, I'll explain if you come to Mexico and visit me. It's kinda a long story... I'm in Michoacán. My friend Alan is getting out soon so he'll be able to take you to me. Call him, he'll put his number in the envelop you got this letter from. So yeah, at least think about visiting me? I miss you._

_Love, Mickey (aka Aleksandr I guess)"_

He sighed and got up as the bell buzzed which indicated that the shift was over.   
In the cafeteria, he went over to a party that was going on. Today was the day Alan was leaving. Mick went over to him and gave him a hug, "I'll miss you, man..."  
"Yeah, me too. You got the letter to your lover?"  
"Yeah, here. And be sure to put your number in the envelope when you send it."  
Alan nodded.

 _Chicago IL, USA_  
_Present Day_

Ian grasped the letter in his hand, ripped it open, and held the envelope behind the letter he had taken out. He takes seconds to read it.  
"Mickey..." He breathes.  
Fiona furrows her eyebrows and walks around the counter, "Wait, what?!"  
"No-Nothing.. Um.. Just... Mickey wrote me a letter.."   
She crosses her arms and bites the inside of her cheek, "We need to call the fuckin' cops, Ian... He's a  _fugitive_  they've been looking for for  _a while_  now! I still see car-"  
Ian bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, "No! No cops, Fiona! Stay the fuck out of it!"  
"What do you mean stay the fuck out of it?! If we get caught having any connection with him, we can get in serious trouble, Ian!"  
"That's why you stay the fuck out of it! This involves me, not you."  
She huffed, "Fine. Don't fuckin' listen to me. If we get the feds knockin' on our door, you better be there to answer." With that she left the kitchen.   
Ian sighed and ran up the stairs, got to his room, and slammed the door behind him. He sat on his bed and set the letter down next to him. He ran his hands through his hair then put his head in his hands. His freckled hands dragged down his face and his green eyes peered at the letter next to him. Ian grabs the letter, unable to stop himself, with a smirk on his face.  
"...Aleksandr Horae, huh?"  
He looks in the envelope and finds a piece of small crumpled up paper with a number in smeared pen. Ian squinted his eyes was soon able to make it out,

_+52(313)-768-8902_

Should he call? Why should he visit?  
He laid down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling with the slip of paper that had the number laying on his chest.

 _Michoacán, Mexico_  
_Present Day_

Mickey has been waiting a month for Ian to appear one day. He never lost hope. He currently has his hand over his chest where the tattoo _"Ian Gallagher"_  was. Yeah, he got the _"Galeger"_  fixed here in Michoacán by a good tattoo artist who was licensed. He looked up at the cell window which had a golden ray shine through. He has changed a bit since he ran away to Mexico: His hair now had a line up side parting cut, he was tanner, his Ian tattoo was fixed, and he now had a slit shaved off the arch of his right eyebrow. It kind of looked like a scar. He really hoped Alan has sent the letter as promised.

 _Chicago IL, USA_  
_One Month Later_

Ian waited day after day until it became a month, pondering if he should pick up the phone and make the commitment to commute.  
God, he missed him, but it's been so long... Is he still the same south side trash he fell for?  
He walked into the house and headed up to his room. Liam was in the bathroom, Lip was at an AA meeting, and Carl was still in military school so Ian had the room to himself. He closed the door behind him and took off his jacket. As he went to set it down, he saw the piece of paper with the number on it that sat atop the dresser next to his bed. He set his EMT coat down slowly as he eyed the paper...   
"Fuck it." He swiped the paper off the counter and fumbled for his phone in his pocket. He was so anxious to call that he typed the number in wrong a couple of times, his thumbs anxiously gliding across the keyboard. Once the number was typed in correctly, his thumb hovered over the call button...  
He waited a couple of seconds..  
_"Should.. Should I do this?"_  
Ian bit his lip and hit the call button before he could continue to guess himself. He held the phone up to is ear and heard the ringing...  
_One ring..._  
_Two rings..._  
_Three rings..._  
A small click was heard.  
_"Hello?"_  
Ian's breath hitched.  
_"Hello?!"_  
Ian didn't have the balls to speak. He took a breath like he was about to say something, but nothing came out..  
_"Yo, who the fuck is this?!"_  The voice was getting impatient.  
"I-Ian.. Ian Gallagher?"  
The voice on the other end became silenced...   
Ian spoke up again, "Is... this Alan..?"  
_"About damn time you called.."_ The guy muttered, chuckling lightly.   
Ian chuckled back nervously in response, "Hey.. Um... Why did Mick give me your number..? Or Aleksandr.. As you know him..?" He held the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reached for a pack of Marlboro's. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He needed a fucking smoke. He grabbed the lighter, flipped it on, and held the cigarette in between his teeth. He flipped it shut and tossed it to the dresser as he took the cig out of his mouth with his left hand and held the phone again with the other.  
_"Are you fucking slow?"_  
Ian furrowed his eyebrows as he took another drag and soon blew out the smoke, "What?"  
_"Never mind, you answered my question..."_  
Ian laughed, "Now I know why you and Mickey are friends." He said as he flicked the ash towards the floor.  
_"Look, dumbass, for some reason Al.. Or Mickey.. Whatever. For some reason, Al loves you and he asked me to put my number in the letter he sent to you. Ya with me?"_  
"Mhm! Oh, and fuck you." Ian said in return, only tolerating Alan to see where this will go and how it relates to Mickey.  
_"Oh, relax fag, that's what Al's trying to do."_  
Ian was confused at first but soon remembered that this guy knew Mickey as  _"Aleksandr"_. He rolled his eyes.  
_"Aleksandr gave you my number because I got out of jail as you may have read from the letter,"_  
Ian put a hand to his forehead, "Can we get to the point about  _Mickey_?"  
_"Kay, asshole.. Long story short,_  Mickey  _wants to see you. There's a family day coming up in prison and he wants you to be there along with that Svetlana chick and his son Yevgeny, weird ass names but yeah. Capiche?"_  
Ian held in his snarky response and took a breath.  
"So, what's the plan here exactly..?"  
_"You didn't already have a plan when you called me, fuckwad?"_  
"No, fuck.. No, guess not." Ian said as he took a deep, irritated sigh. He just wanted to fucking talk to Mickey or some shit.  
_"Okay, here's the deal, every time family day comes around the prisoners get one phone call to ask for their relatives to come visit. I imagine Mickey still has this privilege unless he's fucked it up somehow..."_  Alan chuckled slightly.  
"Okay, so I call him with what number? And then what?"  
_"Yo, easy with the questions. One at a time. Get a fucking pen and paper because I'm not repeating this shit again..."_  
Ian quickly burnt out the cigarette on his dresser and scrambled to look for a pen.  
"Yeah, shit, hold on.." Ian dropped to the floor and found a pen under his bed but no paper. He decided to use his arm as he held the phone between his shoulder and ear again.  
"Okay."  
_"Alright. The number is_    _+52(313)-453-8790."_  
"Mhm, got it." Ian said as he furiously scribbled the number on his left arm.  
_"Good.. Now, call the number."_  
"Wait, what?"  
_"God damn it, Ian.. Is it?! Call the fucking number and then from there you fucking see your boyfriend."_  
Ian swallowed nervously. He hasn't spoken to Mickey in so long...  
_"Man, you got this or not? I ain't got time for this.."_  
Ian sighed, "Yeah, yeah I got this."  
_"Good."_  Alan hung up abruptly.  
What an asswipe...

_Michoacán, Mexico_

Mickey sighed for he had to begin his day. He woke up his cellmate/bitch Raul before the guards came and saw them in the same bed,  
"Come on, time to start the day..." Mickey muttered.  
Raul was an Irish Hispanic which meant exactly what you'd guess. He's half Irish, half Mexican. A ginger who was able to get nice and tan without burning. Mickey saw him to be the closest thing to Ian. Was it weird? Fuck yeah, it was. But did it help Mickey stay somewhat sane? Yeah, yeah it did.  
"Alright, alright, I'm up..."  
"Alright. And hey, just so you know, I think it's best if you start lookin' for other guys..."  
Raul looked at Mickey weird, "Why's that? Your lover in America finally answer to you?" The red head pulled his shirt on and got out in front of their cell block for morning inspection.  
"No, but he might..."  
Raul scoffed, "Damn, that's a shame.. I was beginning to like you Aleksandr... Hasn't it been a month though? Since Alan got out?"  
Mickey sighed, "Awe, shut up... Mailing takes a long ass time..."  
"Clear!" A guard was done checking their block and they went back in it to get ready for their day.  
"Well, will you tell him about me?"  
"Fuck no! You're nothing but a warm mouth to me, no offence..."  
"A warm mouth, huh?" Raul began to leave the cell.  
"Awe, come on! I've called you fuckin' Ian a number of times when we banged!" Mickey followed Raul.  
"Yeah, I know. I just thought you developed feelings for me..." The ginger now stopped and leaned against the wall. Mick stepped aside to get out of the other guys' way.  
"What?! No! I've been mumblin' about Ian in my sleep for months now!"  
Raul shoved Mickey away, "Fuck you, Al! I fuckin' loved you!" He walked away from the dark brunette. The guys stared at him.  
"The fuck you all lookin' at?! Huh?! Get the move on! Ándale!"  
The guys went on as told by Mickey.

_Chicago IL, USA_

Ian looked at his left arm and slowly punched the number in, shakily holding the phone up to his ear and heard as it began to ring.  
_"Michoacán Prison, is there an inmate you would like to speak to?"_  
"Yeah, Milkovich. Mikhailo Milkovich."  
_"We're sorry, there's no Mikhailo Milkovich in our prison... Is this the right prison you're looking for? Maybe you've mistaken us for Michigan prison in the US?"_  The receptionist said.  
Ian panicked and his heart began to race. Did he just endure that painful conversation with Alan only to be fucking lied to??  
Wait...  
Ian paused.  
Fuck. He wasn't _"Mikhailo"_ , he was  _Aleksandr_.... The name on the letter was what the state prison of Michoacán recognised. Ian put on a fake chuckle,  
"Shit, you're right. Aha.. I forgot, Mickey's a cousin of mine who's in.. Uh.. Michigan.." He mentally slapped himself, "I meant my friend, Aleksandr Horae..?" He said and cleared his throat.  
_"Smoooooth..."_  He thought sarcastically to himself.  
_"Alright, let me check..."_  The sound of keyboard clacking sounded,  _"Alright! We do indeed have an Aleksandr Horae! I'll transfer you over now!"_

_Michoacán, Mexico_

"So, heard you and Raul split. You ready to make me your bitch, Horae?" A guy said once he sat next to Mickey. His name was Erik and he's been attracted to Mick since day one.  
"No, I'm waiting for my fuckin' boyfriend to come visit. Family day is in two weeks..."  
"Okay.. And?"  
"Which means..." The dark brunette turned to face Erik, "Back the  _fuck_ off!"  
"Horae! You got a phone call!" A guard shouted.   
"Thank god... Go fuck yourself, Erik..."  
Mickey's heart pounded as he came to the telephone that awaited him.  
Was this it?  
Was it Ian?  
Shakily, he picked the phone up, "H-Hello?..."

Ian heard the abrupt click as the lady transferred him over. There was silence at first from both ends of the phone. He just heard breathing...  
_"H-Hello?..."_  A familiar voice croaked out.  
Ian covered his mouth and held in a gasp that nearly escaped.  
_"...Ian?"_  
Ian uncovered his mouth and took a deep breath...  
"Mickey..."

Mickey's eyes began to tear up, "You... You called me..." He wiped the tears away, for he had to keep up his tough act, "Ian... You don't understand how many times a day I fuckin' think about ya..." He laughed nervously.

Ian bit his lip to stop it from quivering as small tears brimmed his eyes. Happy. They were happy tears...  
He let out a shaky breath, "Fuck, Mick... I miss you...." He sniffles slightly before chuckling, "I don't think there was a moment I stopped thinking about you since you've crossed the border..." He said as his voice became quieter.

Mick swallowed the tight lump in his throat, "Then why didn't you come with me?..." He bit his lip and leaned against the wall, "I... I wanted you to come with me..."

Ian sighed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, "Fuck... Um... Mick, I couldn't leave Fiona or Lip... I couldn't leave my life here.. I'm sorry... I love you..." He croaked out. He missed Mickey, but he didn't want the first time they spoke again to be about why he didn't go with him. This was as close as they could be at the moment.  
Ian sniffles again, "..So... What crazy shit did you do to end up in prison again, huh?" He chuckled, "In your letter you said you'd explain the  _"long story"_."

Mickey smiled sadly, "Ah, I uh... Nearly killed this bitch who fucked with me." He sighed and twirled the cord around his finger, "When will you visit with Yev and Lana? How big has Yev got?"

Ian closed his eyes.  
_"Fuck.. Mickey nearly killed someone..."_  
He took a breath and chose to ignore it. It already happened. Nothing he could do.  
"Yev's adorable. He's gotten so big and handsome just like his father.." He said with a small smile, "I-I'm hoping to visit with them on family day. In two weeks, yeah?"

Mick nodded, "Yeah, tuesday, July eighteenth..."  
"Five more minutes! Say your goodbyes, inmates!"  
"Fuck..." Mickey swore under his breath, "So, you're visiting, right?" He asked with a desperate smile.

"Yeah.." Ian pauses thoughtfully, "Yeah, I'm visiting." He said with his smile growing bigger, "I wanna see your handsome face again.." He bit his lip.

The older male chuckled and held the phone closer, as if it brought him closer to Ian.  
"God, I wish you were here... If only you knew...." He sniffled and wiped his eyes again, "Well, these fuckers aren't allowing any more time... So... See you in two weeks?"

"Yeah," The younger male bit his lip harder with a sad smile tugging at his features, "See you in two weeks.." He breathed out.   
He didn't have the heart to hang up. He hoped Mickey would... He couldn't do it..

Mickey sighed shakily as he tried to work up the nerve to say it...  
"I love..." A click sounded and he looked at the phone, "Hello?! No... Ian?!" He furrowed his eyebrows, "Fuck!" He slammed the phone onto the holder.  
"Horae! Settle down! Get back to your cell!" A guard ordered.  
Mick gritted his teeth as he began to walk off.   
At least he knew Ian was coming...


End file.
